


Even angels will fall

by sepherim_ml



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M, Matchmaking, Soul Bond, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sepherim_ml/pseuds/sepherim_ml
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Linx Excite’s marketing campaign says that using their deodorant ‘even angels will fall’… if Dean knew that they mean literally, he wouldn’t have an angel boyfriend stuck to his ass. -- Based on the Lynx Excite advert that aired last year (you can find it <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3C7-v_R-r94&feature=related">here</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even angels will fall

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N** : This is written for the Wingfic Comment Meme in my journal. I take advantage of the prompt to write something on the Lynx Excite advert that aired last year (you can find it [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3C7-v_R-r94&feature=related)) XD.  
> Thanks to for correcting my mistakes and for creating this amazing banner! <3

**Warning** : AU (but Castiel is an angel), wingfic, rom-com situation.  
  
  
  
  


 

  
  
  
Crowley has a strict 'once-in-never-out' policy, and Dean is sick and tired of his little tricks.  
  
Fuck, Dean is starting to think that his boss has something to do with dark magic.  
  
In all the years that Dean has worked for his company as a model, Crowley had never lost an occasion or ever made a mistake, business wise. All his photo services and video shoots were Runaway approved (no kidding). The very best of the best.  
  
Modeling is something that has come easily to Dean, not exactly what he wanted for his life but hey, easy money is easy money, and Dean had to put Sam through high school and have a substantial fund for him when he started college, so he hadn't complained when photographers asked him to put an extra pout to his mouth and squeeze his ass into tight jeans.  
  
But now Dean wants a change of scenery.  
  
Sam is at Stanford with a full ride scholarship, Dean can take a breath and start thinking about himself. That's why he swallowed his pride and asked Sam to help him read his contract and find a loophole to get himself out of Crowley's reach.  
  
Sam; because his little brother is fucking smart, found it, and now Dean is breaking free from photo shoots and out of Crowley's claws.  
  
That's why Dean starts the day with a big smile on his face, drinking his hot coffee. He has a lot to do; first of all he needs to check a few premises for his brand new business, the garage he always wanted to open to restore classic cars.  
  
He has always known his way around cars, one of the things his father passed on to him when he worked his ass off at Bobby's garage when they lived in Sioux Falls, before dad fell into the dark tunnel of alcoholism.  
  
Now Dean has the freedom and the money to open his own business, and he's excited to start.  
  
The doorbell rings.  
  
Dean opens the door with his mind still full of projects. A delivery man has his hands full with a big basket, wrapped in a fancy silk ribbon.  
  
"Delivery for Dean Winchester."  
  
"That's me."  
  
"Can you sign here please, sir?" The poor guy juggles with the clipboard and Dean signs, taking the big present off the hands of the delivery man. "Enjoy your day."  
  
Dean closes the door and goes to the living room, where he sits down on the sofa. He inspects the basket, looking for a card. He finds it straight away and open the little envelope.  
  
  
 _"A little present from the company and something from your last endorsement.  
Enjoy your new life,  
C."_  
  
  
Crowley be damned.  
  
The basket contains a bottle of good McCallan (fucking awesome!) and a box. The last video shoot Dean did with Crowley was for a deodorant made by the famous brand Lynx©. The marketing team thought of a funny advertisement playing with the sophisticated fragrance and the motto 'even angels will fall', starring Dean's sexy colleague Anna falling from the ceiling with wings and golden halo, acting like his girlfriend. The rest of the video was a series of funny sketches mirroring an improbable angel-human relationship.  
  
Dean stares at the purple bottle. It isn't weird that a company leaves a couple of samples after shooting ads, but it's strange that Dean is gifted with a sample now that he's out of the business. But, hey, a gift is a gift and he puts it anyway in the bathroom, near the rest of his toiletries.  
  
He looks in the mirror, fixing his hair. After all his years in the modeling business, looking in the mirror and checking his appearance had become an unhealthy habit. He'd come a long way from his first day on the job, when he'd looked in the mirror and complained that he looked like a 'painted whore'.  
  
He undresses and goes to the shower, scrubbing his hair with his usual shampoo whilst he thinks about when to call his brother and ask him if he had finally boned a sexy freshman or if he's still buried under a pile of books and assignments.  
  
Dean feels a little guilty, thinking about how much time Sam spent helping him, putting aside his studies to help his dumb older brother.  
  
Once he's done, he dries his body with a towel and ties it around his hips. The mirror is a little blurry but he can still see his spiked sandy hair all over the place. He fumbles with the hair products and then takes the new body spray.  
  
The fragrance is a little too sweet for Dean's liking, but he puts it on anyway, placing the bottle back in its place when he starts rinsing his hair with another towel.  
  
It's then that the mirror and the window start shaking, along with all the toiletries on the sink.  
  
"Is this a fucking earthquake?"  
  
Dean darts to make a quick exit from the bathroom and the apartment but the minute he turns, the window kind of explodes, and Dean tries to protect himself from the broken pieces of cutting glass.  
  
When he opens his eyes, he finds himself on the floor, sitting in shadow created by some kind of cocoon of black, fluffy feathers. Strangest of all, a person is kneeling in front of him, with black hair and the bluest eyes Dean has ever seen in a man.  
  
"What the fuck –"  
  
"Hello."  
  
"Holy shit. What happened?"  
  
Dean jumps up and looks at the mess in his bathroom. The window is no more, but the pieces of broken glass are scattered all around the floor and some of them are even on the wings of the stranger, which explains why Dean doesn't have any cuts or bruises.  
  
Wait a moment.  
  
 _Wings._  
  
"What the fuck happened? Who the fuck are you?"  
  
The dude stands up, shaking his wings and folding them behind his back like they're a living part of him. He's naked, all lean muscles and pale skin and Dean's cock gives a twitch of interest, even in such abnormal circumstances.  
  
"Hello, Clarence? Who the fuck are you? Why the hell did you come in through my window?"  
  
The other man tilts his head to the side. "I'm not Clarence. My name is Castiel." He turns around and frowns. "I apologize for your window, but it was my only way in."  
  
"Your only – dude, you smashed my window! I'm on the fifth floor!"  
  
"Again, I apologize. I'll – take care of it, if you want."  
  
"I want you to  _pay_  for it! And I want to know how on Earth did you enter  _from my fucking window_!"  
  
Castiel frowns again, then opens the entire wingspan of his wings. They almost occupy the distance between the sink and the shower and Dean takes a dubious step behind, looking for some weapon to defend himself in case the nutjob decides to attack him.  
  
"I flew."  
  
"Yeah, you fucking flew through my window with your pathetic excuse for wings. Naked, may I add. Are you the window cleaner? I didn't receive notice from the landlord –"  
  
Castiel looks offended, like Dean had just commented on the dimensions of his cock. "My wings are perfectly fine for an angel of my age."  
  
"Angel." Dean snorts. "Whatever dude, if you want to keep up the show, do it, but get dressed and get the fuck out of my apartment. I'll speak with the landlord, we'll settle this with your boss."  
  
"But I can't."  
  
"You can't what?"  
  
"I can't go away."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Castiel shrugs and makes an honest attempt at a smile. "I fell for you. You're my 'One'."  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Dean had passed the last forty minutes on the phone with the landlord, but the man had reassured him that no-one was hired to clean the windows, and if someone had entered Dean's bathroom by crashing through the window, is was not his problem. Then Dean called someone to have his stupid window fixed - well, more precisely, he needed a brand new one.  
  
The whole time, Castiel remained standing in the middle of Dean's living room, dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that Dean had lent him, with his wings folded back and his piercing blue eyes following Dean's every movements with curiosity.  
  
At Dean's frantic questions, he responded that he was  _'called'_ , he  _'fell'_  and now he's  _Dean's_.  
  
Dean has never kept a plant alive, he really doubts he can take care of a creepy man with full-on wings (and Dean checked: they're as real as his arms. Shit).  
  
"Dean, I told you, you're my 'One'. There is no doubt. I felt the call and I came straight away."  
  
If Castiel repeats that sentence one more time, Dean will strangle him.  
  
There is no way Castiel is an angel, real fucking wings or not, but this has become beyond ridiculous.  
  
"I didn't call you," says Dean slowly. "I don’t even pray."  
  
Castiel tilts his head one more time. He looks so out of place, wearing a Metallica t-shirt and the jeans Dean gave to him, stiff and confused. "You anointed yourself as a possible angel mate. You bear the sign."  
  
"I bear the – what?"  
  
"You bear the smell of a mate."  
  
"What – dude, I just took a shower. You mean there was something in my conditioner?" Sammy used to prank him when they lived together. It was their way of bonding, but Sammy left for Stanford three months ago and Dean used his conditioner daily with no side effects. And what did it mean 'smell of a mate'? He asked that to Castiel.  
  
"It's made of angel pheromones," answers Castiel. "You just smell more appealing to angels. It's like you anoint yourself with oil from our wings."  
  
"Oil? You mean you have glands of oil in your fucking wings?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"And I – dude, I didn't do anything, alright? I just took a fucking shower and used that damn body spray –"  
  
Oh, shit.  
  
Shit, shit, shit.  
  
Dean rushes to the bathroom, picking up the bottle of body spray. He takes it to Castiel, almost shoving it to his face, inviting him not-so-kindly to sniff it. "Is this it?"  
  
Castiel's eyes seem to have grown big and full of lust. He bites his bottom lip and nods. "Yes, the bottle has angel pheromones in it. The same that are all over your body."  
  
"Fucking Crowley. Fucking, fucking, sneaky bastard."  
  
Dean takes the phone and calls his former boss. Meg; Crowley’s PA, makes him wait for forty-two minutes before passing the phone call to Crowley.  
  
"Dean Dean Dean, what can I do for you?" Asks Crowley.  
  
"I don't know how you did it, but fix this mess."  
  
"Sorry, Dean-o, I don't follow."  
  
"The deodorant!  _'Even angels will fall'_! This isn't funny! I have a fucking dude with wings who's convinced he's an angel in my fucking living room!" Dean yells. "There's angel pheromones – whatever the fuck they are – in the bottle with the body spray, so I'm asking you again, what the fuck did you do?"  
  
Crowley chuckles, clearly amused. "Well, you know, Dean-o. You know the line of the advertisement: 'Even angels will fall'. You got yourself an angel boyfriend, champ, take care of him. Now, excuse me, but I have a lot to do. Good bye."  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Sam laughs ten good minutes when Dean calls him asking for help.  
  
"See what happens when you model for a male deodorant with a campaign focused on the cheesy idea of falling angels?"  
  
"Well, according to the ad a  _female_  sexy angel should have fallen," comments Dean. He ignores how Castiel looks contrite at his off-hand comment. "How am I supposed to get rid of him?"  
  
Castiel starts puckering his feathers, head down and slumped shoulders.  
  
"Hey, dude, clean up your own mess!" Dean warns him. "It's enough that I find your feathers everywhere, now stop acting like a damn kid."  
  
Castiel glares at him.  
  
"Dean," says Sam, sighing heavily. "You cannot treat him like that."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Like some kind of burden. If he's really an angel, he fell for you from Heaven to find a mate and now said mate is basically rejecting him and bullying him. The poor dude needs a break. If you really want to get angry at someone, try Crowley, he's the one who put you in this whole mess in the first place."  
  
Dean hates when Sam is the voice of reason.  
  
"The fucker doesn't answer my calls. I went there and his damn secretary said that he was out. I showered three times to get rid of this – angel catnip, but Castiel is still here."  
  
"It doesn't work like that," interrupts him Castiel. "You already anointed yourself as an angel mate."  
  
"So, what, I took the first step at Angel Mating 101 and now I'm stuck with you?"  
  
"Dean!" Sam calls him. "Let me talk to the angel. To Castiel."  
  
Dean hands the phone to Castiel, saying to him that he needs to put it against his ear.  
  
"Hello? You're Dean's brother." Castiel nods. "I understand. Thank you for your kindness." Silence. Dean is dying to know what Sam is saying to the angel. "I cannot get back. I fell for Dean, there's no turning back." Silence again. Castiel sneaks a quick glance to Dean, a deep blushing creeping over his cheeks. "I want to stay. Dean is quite pleasurable."  
  
What?  
  
"I understand. Thank you Samuel, Sam, I appreciate it." Castiel is smiling, which means deep, deep troubles for Dean, because he's pretty sure Sam has said something to make  _him_  happy, without fixing his brother’s problem. The angel passes the phone to Dean.  
  
"What did you do?"  
  
Sam chuckles. "What was right. My brother is getting hitched. I gave my blessing. He seems like a good guy and he wants to put out, so treat him well."  
  
"SAM!"  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Sam's stupidity aside, Dean can't really get rid of Castiel, throw him out and push him onto the streets. And yeah, he can't really blame the poor dude for something his former employer did.  
  
The  _'angel boyfriend'_  takes over Sam's old room. Dean doesn't really want that, because he's hoping that Sam could come home for Christmas, but he can't fit on the sofa.  
  
Castiel adapts pretty easily. On the second day he discovers cereals and cable TV. He places himself in front of the TV, munching and crunching his cereals, watching the re-runs of Doctor Sexy and old comedies.  
  
On the second week, Castiel discovers Masterchef and Dean's kitchen catches fire three times, following Castiel's attempts to cook and bake. In the end, Dean just buys him a couple of cook books and leaves Castiel to his own devices. At least Castiel stops wandering the house like a mad man, puckering his feathers and following Dean everywhere.  
  
On the third week, Castiel's perfect eggs Benedict conquers Dean and he takes him to the grand opening of his new garage. But first of all, he takes Castiel shopping and shows him how to do grocery runs by himself, so Dean doesn't have to do that every time Castiel runs out of stock. So, during Dean's big night, Castiel stands beside him with a plain shirt, a blue tie, new trousers and a trench coat. Dean doesn't bother to correct people when they address Castiel as 'his boyfriend', since he promised Castiel. In exchange, Castiel promised not to show his wings but make them invisible - and it was damn hard for him, apparently.  
  
On the fourth week, Castiel welcomes Dean home with a romantic dinner that he had apparently copied from a soap opera on TV. There are fucking red roses in the middle of the table and fine food on their plates, but they drink beers instead of wine and Dean has an amazing time. They drink a lot and end up sleeping in Dean's bed in a tangle of limbs.  
  
On the fifth week, Dean realises that he hasn't gone on a date since Castiel had appeared the first time. He realises that he includes Castiel in his decisions and he considers him part of the household now. It's scary. Especially when he admits to Sammy that Castiel is part of his life now. Scary, scary, scary.  
  
He can kick Castiel out. The angel has managed to find a job in a pastry shop, so he has money, but Dean doesn’t want him gone. He wants Castiel right there, in his house, with his stupid black wings, cooking and baking every recipe he finds in the cookbooks or whatever Gordon Ramsey proposes on TV. Dean is almost used to watching Hell’s Kitchen with Castiel or, at least, he doesn’t complain so much.  
  
Then, other thoughts appear in his mind.  
  
Cas' lips, for instance - yes, Dean moved from Castiel to Cas, two weeks ago - appear in Dean's wet dreams. Or the way he always puts his wing around Dean's shoulders, like he saw on those stupid romantic chick flicks, or the way Castiel looks at him. He had that look once, when he was sniffing Dean's body spray full of angel pheromones. Well, at least Dean's little crush is not one-sided.  
  
He tests his theory, taking Castiel and his inseparable trench coat out to dinner.  
  
"I'm not denying you're my boyfriend if you hide your wings," says Dean, reenacting their old deal before stepping out of the apartment.  
  
"Deal." Castiel smiles and his wings are gone.  
  
During the dinner, Castiel fumbles with his spaghetti before clearing his throat and confessing: "It's not so hard to hide my wings, now. I know we made a deal that was hard for both of us, but now I'm having the good end of it."  
  
"That's fine," Dean chuckles. "People mistake us for boyfriends anyway. I don't even have to deny it."  
  
"I wish –" Castiel's voice trails down and gets lost.  
  
"What do you wish, Cas?"  
  
"I wish to be that 'One' for you, like you are for me."  
  
The earnest expression on Castiel's face makes Dean adjust in his seat, uncomfortable. "That was the body spray effect. Pheromones, remember?"  
  
"That was the day I met you. Now you don't smell of pheromones anymore. You didn't use the body spray again." Castiel whispers, like they're exchanging secrets. "This is all you."  
  
Dean leans to the back of the chair. He's feeling relaxed, free, drunk with happiness. "You know what? We should head home. I should kiss you."  
  
"I'd love to." Castiel's voice is low, husky. "I want you."  
  
They take the car and head back to their apartment. They undress in the dark, stumbling on each other while they kiss, until they fall on the bed in a mess of feathers, hot touches and light bites.  
  
In the morning, Castiel has another thing to confess. "I may have lied when I said that you don't smell of angel pheromones anymore."  
  
Dean's attention is all on Castiel.  
  
"You smell like me, now."  
  
Dean laughs. "You're one sneaky bitch."  
  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Over the months, every time Dean calls Sam, he passes the phone to Castiel so the two of them can have a conversation. They seem to hit it off, and when Castiel asks Dean if he can call Sam when he manages to create a perfect pecan pie, Dean smiles, kisses him, rewards him with a blowjob, and takes a picture of the pie to send it to Sam.  
  
The first time Sam and Castiel meet is over Christmas. No wonder when the two of them behave like BFFs.  
  
After the amazing dinner Castiel prepared them, they pass the night talking in the living room, drinking beer, with Sam sprawled on the sofa and Castiel pressed against Dean's side, Dean feels damn lucky.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Christmas morning Dean and Castiel are woken up by a loud crash followed by a not-so-manly scream. They're up in a second, rushing towards the bathroom, where they find Sam half naked, with the bottle of body spray still in his hands and an angel with golden wings in front of him, broken pieces of window all around the floor.  
  
Castiel wraps Dean in his wings immediately, growling.  
  
"Dude, I need to see my brother, this is not the time to do the whole guard dog act!" Dean pushes Castiel's wings aside, trying to reach for his brother. "Sammy?"  
  
Sam looks at the body spray bottle in his hand. "I finished my deodorant and I took the first one I could find and –"  
  
Dean laughs. He laughs so hard that one of Castiel's black feathers almost gets up his nose.  
  
"Dean, this is not funny!"  
  
"Oh, shit, it is! You've got your own angel boyfriend now, congrats little bro."  
  
The new angel doesn't budge even a little. He opens his wings at the maximum wingspan, knocking off some of the toiletries on the sink and smashing against the shower stall.  
  
"Hey, easy there, feather-ass," warns Dean.  
  
"He's showing off to your brother," explains Castiel, gripping Dean's waist, like he's scared that this new angel could capture the attention of his mate.  
  
"Dean, what do I do? I –" Sam is confused and Dean laughs again.  
  
"I'm Lucifer," says the blond angel. He looks a little creepy – okay, creepier than Castiel – and Dean is a little scared for his brother. Damn, angel or not, Dean will kick his ass if he hurts his brother in any way. "You bear the marks of an angel mate."  
  
"No, look, I –"  
  
"You bear the marks," repeats Lucifer, deadly serious. "I fell for you."  
  
Dean laughs again.  
  
"Dean!"  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
Crowley sits on his chair comfortably, he looks at his neatly arranged agenda and waits for his secretary to bring him his usual five o’clock tea.  
  
A soft knock and Meg enters in the room, bringing a tray. Along with the usual tea and biscuits, there is a sealed envelope.  
  
"What is this, my darling?"  
  
"It's from Dean," answers Meg, annoyed. "He insisted and insisted and insisted. You should read it for my own peace of mind."  
  
Once alone, Crowley ignores his hot Earl Grey in order to open the envelope. He left Dean months ago, with a little present that would change his entire life.  
  
Crowley doesn't like when someone gets one up on him, so the idea of sending Dean a body spray full of angel pheromones seemed a fit punishment. He's got a reputation as a demon for a reason, he writes off unbreakable contracts and the fact that one silly human - that made him gain a  _lot_  of money - managed to slip through his fingers called for payback.  
  
  
 _"Watch out, we’ve got Satan on our side.  
  
Thanks,  
  
Dean."_  
  
  
Apparently, Dean managed to pull it off anyway. What a resourceful Ken Doll. Crowley loves playing with feisty humans.


End file.
